


We Fall Apart As It Gets Dark

by AlternateBubblegum



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Angst and Feels, Complicated Relationships, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Female Persona 5 Protagonist, Hurt No Comfort, Persona 5: The Royal Spoilers, Unresolved Emotional Tension, so no jazz club tonight?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:20:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24955969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlternateBubblegum/pseuds/AlternateBubblegum
Summary: P5R SPOILERS!! [and a F!Joker for selfish reasons]"She had changed the hearts of the most corrupt, powerful people in society. She had challenged gods, and won. But no matter what, she would never be able to live in a world with Akechi. She would always, always have to let him go."It's the night before the final Palace boss and Rin Amamiya has to face the truth.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 16
Kudos: 91





	We Fall Apart As It Gets Dark

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this piece comes from Billie Eilish's "I Love You," which ALWAYS makes me think of this scene and cry. 
> 
> Akira/Ren is "Rin" here because I stumbled across another F!Joker fic and became obsessed with the idea of a female Persona protag being as unapologetically badass as the original! 
> 
> Rated M for mentions of death (obviously) and memories of sex.

Maruki appeared at twilight, just as the sky bruised into a deep blue. He’d shuffled into Cafe Leblanc like any other unassuming customer might, glasses characteristically skewed, hair almost as disheveled as Rin’s own frizzy curls. It could have been just another counseling session, she’d mused. Idle conversations and half-eaten snacks. Even now, with the stakes so high—even after Sumire—she can’t bring herself to hate the man standing before her now, casting his curious gaze around the small shop. 

“Good evening, Rin-chan,” he greets her in his calm voice. “So this is where you live, huh? What a charming little cafe.” 

Rin straightens up from her perch at the bar, Morgana leaping to his feet alongside her. “Would you like some coffee?” she asks Maruki. His eyes widen briefly in surprise before he chuckles, nodding appreciatively. 

Neither of them speak as Rin moves methodically about the kitchen. Even Morgana is silent, tensed at Rin’s leg as if on guard against the man now pensively studying  _ Sayuri _ in the corner, humming very softly to himself here and there. When Rin hands him his cup a moment later, his smile is as sincere as it had been the day she’d first visited his office—only a few months ago, but it could have been a lifetime. “Thank you,” he says, and makes a small show of inhaling the aroma. “Smells delicious!”

They slide into a nearby booth across from each other, Maruki nursing his cup, Rin letting hers grow cold while Morgana settles into the seat with her. Knowing the time for simple niceties has passed, Maruki offers a rueful smile. “I’m sorry for the last minute visit, Rin-chan.” He wraps his hands around his mug, staring down into its half-drunk contents for a second before switching gears. “How’s Yoshizawa-san holding up? I’ve been concerned about a potential relapse, considering her difficulties with accepting this reality.” 

_ Difficulties _ , Rin thinks bitterly. _ Well, no wonder _ . Maruki had taken the opportunity for healing away from Sumire before she’d even had the chance to process her sister’s death. Out loud, Rin only says, “Sumire’s one tough lady.” 

If Maruki hears the pointed emphasis on Sumire’s real name, he doesn't show it. “You know,” he muses softly, “I would love for that to be the truth. But people can’t maintain their strength forever, Rin-chan.” Folding his hands in his lap, he locks eyes with her and nods to himself. “So… getting down to business…” 

Rin waits patiently for Maruki to extend his deal, wondering what he could say that he hadn’t already shared back at the Palace. She remembers the look Akechi had given her when she’d denied Maruki then, the lightning flash of a smile that had transformed his face. He’d been proud of her. He’d looked… grateful, even. She can almost imagine Akechi here with her now, huffing indignantly at the prospect of having to waste precious time on a chat. It’s almost as funny as it is frustrating, his hatred towards such “trivial matters” as  _ feelings _ … 

“I wanted to confirm with you one last time: is there no other way to come to an agreement besides fighting?” Maruki asks. 

Without hesitation, Rin shakes her head. “I told you last time,” she says. “We can’t accept this reality.” 

Maruki’s gaze slides to the floor, his brows knitting together. “The reality I created may seem distorted from your point-of-view… but it’s a reality where everyone is happy. If you just stay, you’ll never have to suffer the pain of loss, or the pain from having people and things stolen away from you!”

“Like you have?” Rin asks quietly, almost regretting the hurt that flashes across Maruki’s face. She watches as an all-too familiar sadness settles upon his shoulders, tightens the corners of his mouth. 

“So… you saw what happened with Rumi. I’m not the one who suffered—she is.” He leans back into his seat, giving Rin a resigned smile. “But she’s still living a wonderful life right now in this world you call a ‘distorted reality.’ 

Morgana’s ears twitch. “But she still doesn’t remember you, right? And you’re fine with that?” 

Rin isn’t sure if she imagines the slight pause Maruki takes before he responds, but his face has noticeably drooped. “She may not be in my life anymore, but at least her own life is a happy one now. I’m not just doing this for Rumi, you know—I want all of you to live just as happily as she is… but, for Rumi’s happiness to last, I have to move on. After all that’s happened to her—to me—I just can’t drag her into it.”

_ What if you had never altered reality to begin with?  _ Rin wants to ask. The questions that had first arisen in Maruki’s Palace bubble to the surface now, rebellion mixing with the sympathy she holds for Maruki’s sorrowful situation.  _ What if you had stayed with her, worked with her to heal, to forge a better future together?  _

Morgana sighs; Rin wonders if he’s thinking the same thing. “Doc…”

“My stance will not change,” Maruki declares. “Strange circumstances have led to my gaining this power—however, I now recognize it as being wholly inevitable. This is something only I am capable of doing. I promise: every person alive will be happy in the world I create…”

The pause he takes now is pointed, his eyes suddenly burning into Rin’s with strengthened resolve. Maruki leans forward slightly, holding her gaze as if imparting a deadly secret. “So let me ask you the same,” he says, voice dipping. “After really considering every option, do you have  _ any _ doubts about your views?” 

Rin feels her face tighten as she looks back at Maruki, perplexed by the sudden change in his behavior. Twice before he had asked her if she would accept his reality, and both times he had relented, though disappointed, when she’d refused. Why press her for the same answer a third time? And why is he looking at her like that now—with eyes full of  _ pity _ ? 

“What are you getting at?” she all but snaps. A wordless, cold dread had begun to build in the pit of her stomach, and she  _ hates _ the look in Maruki’s eyes, like he knows something she doesn’t.

Instead of answering her question, Maruki turns his face towards the front door. “I suppose it’s more accurate to ask, ‘do you  _ two _ have any doubts?’ You’re here, aren’t you?... Akechi-kun.”

To both Rin and Morgana’s utter bewilderment, the boy in question sweeps into the cafe, bringing with him a gust of frigid evening air. Although he’s wearing his beige coat and the scarf  _ she _ had bought him as a late Christmas gift—after everything had crumbled, after Rin proposed they pick up the pieces together—his unguarded nose and cheeks are flushed from standing outside in the cold for too long. Her fingertips tingle with the urge to warm his chilled skin, but she keeps her distance, and not only because of Maruki’s presence—this is the first time she’s seen Akechi all week. For some reason, it seems he’s been avoiding her. 

The Detective Prince looks as collected as ever, posture unerringly perfect and expression locked into the professional mask he’d adopted long ago. “You caught me,” he says, training his sharp gaze on the counselor. 

“Oh, it was just a hunch,” Maruki replies breezily. He faces Rin once more, and the pity she had seen in his eyes before now seems magnified. “This issue doesn’t only affect you, Rin-chan… Akechi-kun, this involves you, too.”

“What do—” Rin begins, surprised, and looks to Akechi in confusion. Hearing her voice, Akechi winces and lowers his gaze from Maruki to the floor—carefully evading her eyes. The seed of dread in Rin’s stomach feels heavier, stone-like. Her skin prickles with a wave of anxiety. 

Maruki threads his fingers together on top of the table, surveying both teens before continuing. “The relationship you two share is very unusual… a detective and a phantom thief. Despite being enemies, your relationship isn’t based on hatred or ill will…” He exhales and shakes his head. “That’s why I found it so tragic when I learned what happened in Shido’s palace.”

Instantly, the memories of that night wash over Rin—familiar, horrible memories, morphed into constantly evolving nightmares that still plague her. The way Akechi had begged. The gravel in his voice as he faced down the puppet wearing his face. The gunshot, and worse, the silence afterwards—

She’d begun to shake, just slightly, and Morgana quickly lays a paw on her leg and turns his feline face to look up at her in concern. Maruki, noting the exchange, gently prods deeper into the wound he’d knowingly reopened. “Say, Rin-chan… didn’t you regret how things ended with him? You two came to a deep understanding of one another… yet you had no choice but to leave Akechi-kun to his fate.” 

Akechi is unnervingly quiet; his face, partially obscured by his hair, is still slanted towards the floor. His lack of defiance—the fiery impulsive he’d embraced since returning from Shido’s Palace—is nowhere to be found, and this only accelerates the growing coldness inside of Rin. 

Maruki takes a breath and smiles, slow and patient. “That’s why I created a reality where you two could have a fresh start together.” 

And just like that, the ice that had been spreading from Rin’s core engulfs her completely. It’s as if she’d been decked in the face—the blow, the reeling—the world in front of her eyes swims. The tornado of her mind screeches to a halt. 

Akechi is silent.

At her side, Morgana has tensed all over. “That would mean the Akechi in the real world is…”

Maruki leans back again, as if giving Rin space to process the information he’s just unloaded on them. “Get what I’m saying? I genuinely didn’t want to tell you like this. I didn’t want to make it seem like I’m holding him hostage… but no matter what you may think of me, I just want you all to accept this reality and move on with your happy lives.”

Rin is unable to speak, to even think properly. She recalls having been frozen once before, by a particularly nasty Shadow in Mementos. The sensation was maddening—being mentally present for each second, but unable to budge a single inch, had made her feel like a hostage inside her own body. But this… this feeling trapping her now is worse still. 

“And that matters how, exactly?” Akechi snarls, roaring back to life. “Don’t tell me you think dangling my life before us is going to have any impact on our decision.” 

Rin sucks in a sharp breath at his words. The plain decor of Leblanc—her  _ home _ —is a dizzying kaleidoscope. “So you knew…” 

For the first time since he’d entered the cafe that night, Akechi finally meets her gaze. His eyes, she thinks, are so far away, as if only his body is here. “Well, I lacked conclusive evidence,” he explains, “but after I fought against you all, I had a gap in my memory that ended with meeting up with you again. There were also the cases of Wakaba Isshiki and President Okumura… of course I’d find that suspicious.” 

_ Of course he would _ , whispers a small voice in Rin’s mind.  _ Such obvious clues that you should have picked up on. You just didn’t want to face the truth.  _

Her eyes find a small crack in the leather headrest of Maruki’s side of the booth, and she devotes all her focus to that tear, desperate to latch onto an anchor—something to keep her rooted to this moment, this god-awful situation,  _ anything _ to keep her from spinning out of control. 

“I see…” The sympathy in Maruki’s voice is palpable. “I had a feeling the truth of the matter still wouldn’t dissuade you, Akechi-kun…” 

Rin senses, more than sees, Maruki’s gaze swing to her then. “But how about  _ you _ , Rin-chan?”

_ Ice _ . Her blood is pure ice. 

“‘You think dangling my life before us is going to affect our decision?’ That’s what Akechi-kun said a moment ago. If that’s how you see it at this point, I’m fine with it…” Maruki spreads his hands out on the table in front of her. “But I’m still going to ask you, one last time: Will you accept the reality I create for you?”

His words reach her as if from miles away. The crack in the leather seems to stretch the longer Rin looks at it, seeing but not seeing, overwhelmed by a feeling she can’t give into. Not yet, not here, with Maruki’s eyes roving for a weakness. When she doesn’t respond, he takes this as his cue to continue.

“You were the guiding light to my research. You showed me the way so I could make my dream into reality. I have nothing but gratitude for you—not a single ounce of ill will. That’s why I wanted you of all people to understand…”

_ Sojiro needs to replace that seat, _ Rin thinks.  _ All the seats, probably. And the walls. Fresh paint.  _

The scarf Akechi is wearing—her thoughts are spiraling, she tries not to look over at him—Rin had bought it for him in November. They had been at the jazz club, discussing the sales rushes and crowds in Shibuya, when he’d said, “I’ve never actually received a Christmas present.” Seeing her expression, he’d hurriedly clarified: no presents beyond snack baggies from coworkers, or letters from fans, or the like. And he’d waved it away, laughing.  _ “I’ve outgrown such desires.” _ And she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it. 

So she’d bought him a scarf. Wrapped it and held onto it, tucking it beneath the cardboard box upstairs, because gifting it a month early would have been too suspicious—would have signalled that she knew all about Akechi’s plans, the impending arrest. That there still would be no Christmas Day celebration. 

But when he’d returned… when they’d gotten their second chance, free from Shido’s manipulation and Akechi’s goddamn  _ pride _ —

Feeling is returning to Rin’s hands; she senses the prick of her nails cutting into the flesh of her palms. The numbness that had kept her unmoving is beginning to thaw, making way for something else—something _ angry _ and volatile. Maruki, watching her neutral mask give way to the rising despair within her, finally relents and stands up. 

“Perhaps I shouldn’t ask you for an answer on the spot like that. I’ll be going now,” he says, almost apologetically, as he angles his body towards the door. 

Without tearing her gaze from the ruined leather before her, Rin reaches into her jacket. “You forgot something,” she says, and flicks the calling card across the table to land in front of him. 

Maruki almost smiles then, picking the card up and scanning its contents. “Ah, that’s right... I’ve heard your calling.” 

Rin barely notices Akechi moving to stand by her as Maruki tucks the card away, or the counselor’s final statement when he pauses, looks back over his shoulder, says: “And about my question—let’s do this… I’ll be waiting in the Palace tomorrow, just as I promised. If you still haven’t changed your mind by then, we’ll meet there. But if you don’t show, I’ll take that to mean you’ve accepted my reality.” He opens his mouth as if to say something, seems to think better of it, so he adds only, “see you.”

Rin, Akechi, and Morgana listen to the door chime with Maruki’s departure. The tense atmosphere inside the cafe seems to grow even more oppressive with his leave. Morgana’s tail swishes in agitation; he turns to Rin, seemingly nervous by the silence stretching out between the three of them. “What are you gonna do?”

Rin finally looks away from the booth seat and meets Morgana’s steady, trusting gaze. She wants to reassure him, but the words are stuck in her throat, lodged beneath what feels like a scream—if she started, gave breath to it, she doesn’t think it would ever end. 

Akechi shifts in place, visibly uncomfortable. He’s picking at the fabric of his gloves, an anxious habit Rin has only seen him act on in the rarest of instances. “I’d like to speak with Rin,” he says, and her traitorous heart, despite everything, jumps in her chest.

“Akechi…” Morgana nods solemnly. “Gotcha. Rin, I’ll leave the decision up to you—let me know when you’ve reached an answer.” 

When the cat hops down to the floor, Rin gets up along with him to mirror Akechi’s unsure pose. They watch Morgana slip outside, releasing another gust of cold air that Rin doesn’t feel. Her mind is kicking back into overdrive; her hands kept clenching and unclenching. There’s Goro Akechi in front of her now, alive and warm. Wearing the scarf. Standing just underneath the room with the mattress they’d fallen into time and time again. But, vivid in her mind’s eye, there is also the Akechi who’d gone berserk—who had cried with rage, who had sacrificed his life to save the very Phantom Thieves he claimed to despise with all his heart. And neither of these Akechis knew how she had grieved for him when he had, for all intents and purposes, died that night in December. 

She’d lost a little weight, not being able to eat or sleep afterwards. It had taken an intervention with Sojiro and Futaba, and then numerous outings with the other Thieves, for Rin to feel even slightly functional again—to keep down meals, to hear what other people were saying to her—but she’d still had no idea how to confront the vicious ache in her heart. 

But he had come back to her. 

And they had begun to mend all those broken threads.

And now she’s losing him  _ all over again.  _

Akechi is looking at her, and when she meets his gaze the lump in her throat only grows. Because he looks so fucking calm, as if his own death doesn’t faze him. As if she’s the only one suffering right now, even if she knows that’s not true, even if she  _ knows _ that he’s had years to practice hiding his pain. 

_ This is why you didn’t want to see me _ , Rin thinks. All the flimsy excuses he had used to knock her invitations away, all the ignored messages… more tactics. 

As soon as their eyes lock, Akechi’s gaze drops back to the floor, and he begins to speak as if reciting a well-known verse. “I will carve my own path for myself. I refuse to accept a reality concocted by someone else, stuck under their control for the rest of my days.”

_ Even if we could be happy? _ She wants to ask, pathetically. Instead she states the obvious, sticks to the facts. Facts are safe. “But then, you’ll...”

Akechi looks up sharply at her then. “So  _ what? _ ” he spits. “That’s the path I chose. All you have to do is stick to your guns and challenge Maruki. Or are you really so spineless that you’d fold over some bullshit, trivial threat on my life?” 

Something snaps inside of Rin, breaking any last shred of composure she clung to. She rushes forward to face him, trembling all over with sick rage. “This is not  _ trivial! _ ” she shouts, throwing the word back at him. 

Her anger seems to reach him, because his stoney expression melts to reflect the same desperate frustration she feels. “It  _ IS _ ,” he counters, eyes blazing. “Do you think I’d be happy with this? Being shown mercy now, of all times? I don’t want to be pitied—this isn’t something I’m debating with you!”

Rin hangs her head to hide the hot tears suddenly blurring her vision, hoping they don’t fall, hoping her glasses mask them from Akechi’s sight. She remembers the fortune-teller in Shinjuku arguing that fate can never be altered, and Rin feels the weight of that finality now.  _ Was this always meant to be  _ our _ fate? _ She wants to run away from this, prolong the inevitable.  _ Is there really nothing I can do? _

She had changed the hearts of the most corrupt, powerful people in society. She had challenged gods, and _ won _ . But no matter what, she would never be able to live in a world with Akechi. She would always,  _ always _ have to let him go. 

“Your indecisiveness on the matter is essentially a betrayal of my wishes,” Akechi says, staring hard at Rin, whose eyes are still plastered to the floor as if she could find some meaning there. “I want to hear you say it aloud. What do you intend to do?” 

Rin closes her eyes and tries to breathe, pulling her thoughts together as best as she can.  _ If we fight against Maruki and win, we’ll return to our original reality…  _

_ … but… Akechi…  _

“I won’t wait a moment longer. Answer me.” 

There’s something in his voice—a cracked note, a hint of turmoil—that finally makes her look up at him. If he is surprised to see her crying, he doesn’t show it but for the subtlest tightening of his jaw. He’s quiet—waiting, despite his words, for her response, so she steals this moment to drink in the sight of him. 

The long hair, with its downy softness, and the memory of stroking it once he’d fallen asleep in her bed—that had been the first night like that, the first time they’d stopped walking on eggshells around each other and gave into the tension between them. The sharp angles of his pretty face. The cupid’s bow of his upper lip that she’s kissed countless times, not enough times. 

She loves how Akechi has never wasted time beating around the bush with her, never denied her a debate or a fight on the simple premise that she was a girl. During their duel in Mementos, Akechi had flown straight at her with no hesitation—all gnashing teeth, ferocious eyes—and she had loved every second of it. The thrill of an earnest onslaught, of throwing everything she had into each attack and receiving the same unbarred blows. 

And afterwards—the bruises he’d wrought on her hips, pulling her in roughly for one deep kiss after another. 

The beautiful face before her now, with the piercing red eyes currently pinning her for an impossible answer, was one Rin knew well. She had split it open with her bare fists, once, and she still remembers how his ensuing shock had given way to a burst of wild laughter. She’d ground herself against that face in the cool dark of her room, using the slick of his tongue and the sounds of his own moaning to find release to the storm he’d started in her.

Now, all she wants to do is touch it gently, inch by inch. Skim her fingertips over the smooth skin. Memorize each plane of his face so she’ll never be able to close her eyes without seeing his image behind the lids. But when she reaches out, just barely brushing his arm, Akechi recoils and looks to the door as if ready to flee. 

Rin’s first instinct is to be hurt—he’s never jerked away from her touch before. But then she understands. The time for caresses and sweet nothings has long passed; he has come not to spend the night but to hear her decision and then walk away, forever shutting the door on what could have been. 

Because to do otherwise might break them.

Akechi’s patience has run thin; she can see it by the twitch of his left brow. “ _ Rin _ —”

“We’re stopping Maruki,” she says, thankful her voice doesn’t waver, even as it rings out dull as an Okumura bot’s. She’s said those words before, and they felt like a battle cry. Now they taste like lead on her tongue. 

When Akechi immediately nods, his signature smirk returning to his lips, Rin feels torn—comforted by the reassurance on his face, destroyed by the fact that he’s  _ okay _ with this. “Alright,” he says, “I’m relieved to hear it.” A beat passes between them, and Akechi’s expression grows serious again. His eyes seem to cut into her; Rin wonders if he’s taking one last, long look, the same way she is. 

“I will never accept this form of reality,” he says softly. “I’m done being manipulated. Let’s go back… to our true reality.” 

And with that, Akechi turns to leave—and a torrent of words burst unbidden out of Rin before she can stop them. 

“I’ll accept that it’s our true reality,” she murmurs, volume gradually increasing, “and I won’t ever regret fighting for it, but I want you to know—”

“ _ Don’t _ .” A warning—Akechi whirls around, eyes wide, but Rin stumbles on.

“—I am always going to think about you, and miss you, and wonder what might have happened if we just—”

“If we  _ what _ ?” Akechi had strode forward as she’d talked, and now they’re glaring into each other’s eyes, closer than they have been all night, and Rin could count each individual lash of his if she only had the time. “Spit in the face of everything you and your friends fought for this past year? Do you think, for even a  _ second _ , that love is en—”

He breaks off, looking as shocked as she feels at hearing him say the word aloud—not because she hadn’t known, but because she’d never expected him to actually admit it. Akechi closes his mouth and swallows, narrows his eyes. She can practically see the gears turning in his head as he tucks away any sign of vulnerability, as he searches for a way to backtrack. When he speaks again, his voice is back to the smooth, controlled pace it held when he had talked to Maruki. “What’s a life worth in a reality that was cooked up just to satisfy someone else? I say none.” 

But she’s close enough to him to see her own set of  _ what-ifs _ in his defiant gaze, even if they can’t outweigh his convictions. He could never fully hide his true self from her searching eyes—it had always been that way. They shared an understanding that didn’t make sense to anyone else, and that same understanding fills her now with the knowledge that she could make him stay tonight if she would only ask. She wouldn’t have to beg, or plead, or use this whole twisted situation to frame her selfish desires as one last wish for him to grant—for one last night of getting to experience a side of Akechi no one has ever seen before. It would be so easy: take him by the hand, lead him upstairs as she’s done before… 

And he would let her. 

For a moment, Rin lets herself imagine. Losing themselves in each other. Watching him unravel for her. Falling asleep in their shared warmth, waking up to make breakfast for the two of them, holding hands on the way over to the Palace. It would still hurt, but she could have him, pretend that they were something definable for just a little longer.

But she also knew that wasn’t him. Wasn’t  _ them _ . 

It would be a false memory, a false relationship. A compliant Goro tending to her needs—a lie to make her feel better in the moment. 

They were never going to be the type of couple who talked things out, or kissed and made up, or celebrated anniversaries, or even referred to themselves as a couple in the first place. But they could have been, in another life, perhaps. She would have to believe that.

“We have to win this,” Akechi tells her. “No matter what.” And at the same time, she knows he’s also saying,  _ “You have to let me go.” _

So she does. She chokes down everything she still has to say and lets him walk out the door. Watches him, through the glass pane, touch the scarf around his neck almost absentmindedly. Watches him pause for _one_ _heartstopping_ _second_ before disappearing from view. And she stands there for a long time, looking out at where he’d just been, as the sky darkens and the stars slowly blink into being.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Too... sad... must write smut to cleanse my palette...


End file.
